


Goa - Evening

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [102]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 16:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14241291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.This is a new log and has not previously been posted to the game.





	Goa - Evening

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).
> 
> This is a new log and has not previously been posted to the game.

Stephen is not a guy who would normally choose to go to the spa for a couple of hours of treatments, but it's what Sir had wanted, so off he'd gone. Now as he steps back into their suite he's feeling decidedly chill, he's been pampered from head to toe and whilst it's not something he'll be looking to do regularly, he's enjoyed it.

In the meantime, Antony's taken a second shower, shaved again, pulled out a pair of black linen pants, a white linen shirt, and black sandals. "Mm. You look good," he says, coming to greet Stephen, appreciation clear in his gaze. "How was it?"

"Odd, but good," Stephen grins. He takes a step back and makes a show of checking out his husband. "You are looking seriously hot darling man," he observes. "I like this..."

"I clean up well, don't I?" Antony jokes, unable to remember the last time he stayed this clean-shaven for any length of time.

"Hell yes," Stephen laughs, tugging Antony in to press a kiss to his mouth. "You are gorgeous."

"Says my boy who has the body of a god," Antony murmurs, kissing him back. "Are you hungry?"

"Uh huh," Stephen nods, seeking another kiss. "Starving."

"Let's go feed you then," Antony says, licking across Stephen's lips. "I want you on your knees beside me at dinner."

"Hmm, thank you Sir," Stephen pulls back, "Am I okay like this?" He indicates the lightweight navy trousers he's wearing. "Or do you want me naked?" 

"Naked." Antony grins. "I want everyone to see what I own."

Stephen's skin goosebumps at that, he grins and pops the fly on his pants, shimmying his hips til they slide off. "Like this?"

Antony nods, running a hand over Stephen's stomach, skin made even smoother than usual by his pampering, fingers teasing over the ring in his boy's cock. "How much longer before I get to play with this?" He knows - damn right he knows - but he wants to hear Stephen say it.

"Not long... not long Sir," Stephen assures Antony, watching his Sir's fingers tease and lightly tug on the metal ring. 

Antony smiles. "You're lucky I'm a patient man," he says, managing a straight face as he wraps his fingers around Stephen's cock and gives it a couple of strokes.

"Nggh... fu..." Stephen bites off the expletive at the unexpected 'caress'. He rocks up on his toes for a moment before settling, his breath hitching. 

"I want them to see you in all your glory," Antony murmurs, giving Stephen a couple more strokes before he shows _some_ mercy and stops. "Let's go, boy."

"Yes Sir." Stephen follows Antony out of the suite, naked, barefoot, his skin has a slight sheen from the oils that had been worked in during his massage, it highlights the dips and planes of his muscles. His cock is hard, the foreskin fully retracted to show off the silver ring through the tip of his penis. Those few moments of Antony's hand on him had nudged him into the beginnings of his subspace, so despite their stunning surroundings, Stephen has eyes only for his Sir.

There are a few members and staff Antony recognizes from other locations and he nods, exchanging a few pleasantries as they pass and noting the way their eyes are drawn to Stephen, to his boy, reflecting an interesting mix of jealousy and envy - of them both. He stops Michel though, one of Louis's most trusted trainers. "Bon soir. Comment ça va?" he asks, giving the other man a hug. "Are you here working or on vacation?'

Stephen comes to a halt beside Antony, half a step behind, his fingers loosely linked with his Sir's. He smiles at the other man, he's attractive, built, a similar size and shape to himself. His erection has eased a little, not quite so rock hard and 'in your face'.

"Working," Michel says with a laugh and heavily-accented English. "But I get to enjoy a week off here when I'm done." He nods towards Stephen. "This is your boy?"

"Yes. This is Stephen. Stephen, this is Michel. He's one of Louis's top trainers. He's been working for Citadel forever," Antony explains with a smile.

"Not forever," Michel protests. "Only eighteen years."

"See? Forever," Antony insists, but it's clear they're teasing each other.

Michel smiles. "I'd heard you found a boy and that he was _magnifique_. I see the rumour mill was spot on for once."

Stephen offers his hand, his chin dipped just a little at the effusive compliment. "Michel, it is a pleasure," he says softly in French. He casts Antony a look from the corner of his eye. "I am not so sure that Antony found a boy, so much as I found my Sir," he smiles, content in his belief he and Antony were made for each other. 

"That's very good to hear," Michel says, switching to French as well as he shakes Stephen's hand. "And it's a pleasure to meet you," he adds. "Are you here for long?" he asks Antony.

"A week," Antony responds. "We just came from Nepal. Spent a week there trekking." They make vague plans to have dinner together on one of the nights before going their separate ways.

"They're all very impressed I've found a boy who speaks French," Antony tells Stephen with a smile, giving him a kiss.

Stephen shrugs lightly. "It's not like I went out of my way to learn it, we were a bilingual home," he bumps shoulders, "but I guess I could say it's one of my many talents." He slides his fingers back into Antony's hand and falls back in not quite beside him.

"Well, I'm not sharing the others," Antony grins, giving Stephen's fingers a squeeze as they walk along the path towards the main restaurant.

"No? You never think about that anymore?" When they had first met Antony had included the right to sharing Stephen in the first draft of his contract, a clause Stephen had vetoed - at least until they had gotten to know each other significantly better. 

Antony shrugs. "I would in the right mood with the right person, but only if you were okay with it. I wouldn't get off on making you be with someone."

"It's still not something I'm looking to explore. Not unless it was a significant thing for you, something like that off club scene we did." Unconsciously his fingers tighten in Antony's at the mere thought. "Something that you had to play an integral part in anyway." 

"That's fine," Antony says, dropping back the little bit it takes to lean in and press a kiss to the curve of Stephen's jaw. "I wouldn't _ever_ share you without being an integral part of it. And it's not something I'm chomping at the bit for."

Something unnamed eases in Stephen at that. He's aware that if Antony told him to do something he'd most likely do it - and find some way to process it in a positive light, but deep down... deep down he's still too scared of Antony finding pleasure in sharing him, in not feeling that proprietorial urge that to Stephen speaks of his Sir's, his _Master's_ , need to own him absolutely. "But before me? You would have, right?"

Antony laughs. "In a heartbeat," he nods. "But they weren't mine. I didn't feel the same possessiveness."

"Do you ever experience jealousy?" It's a question coming from a place of curiosity rather than ego. Stephen tips his head to look at his husband as he considers that.

"I haven't," Antony answers truthfully, "but if someone hit on you, I'd be hard-pressed not to punch them in the head, even though I know I can trust you to handle them."

"I'm safe here, my collar pretty much tells everyone I'm owned," Stephen points out, amused at the idea of a growly Antony and then for a moment he replays that incident back before the wedding, when he'd been shamed for that very thing. His chin drops and he takes a breath.

"You okay?" Antony asks, noting the change in Stephen's demeanour.

Blowing out that breath Stephen lifts his head, and gives a brief nod. "Yeah, yeah I am," he manages a smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I am; I'm loved, owned, married..." Then he leans in, seeking a kiss, a physical reassurance.

Antony stops where he is, reeling Stephen in and kissing him, his mouth hot and possessive. Determined to push away whatever's suddenly bothered his husband.

Stephen melts in the face of his lover's passion, his need. He presses close, a soft whine swallowed down as his cock fills again. All unpleasantness pushed from his mind once more.

"We'd better go eat while we can," Antony murmurs, licking his lips, his trousers suddenly so much tighter. "Don't want to be starving my boy."

A smile, Stephen's blue eyes alight with humour once more. "Sir would never be so neglectful," he retorts. "He cherishes his boy too much."

"It wouldn't take that long to bend you over one of these benches here," Antony grins. Teasing. Mostly.

"Sir is trigger happy?" It's a naughty tease, but one Stephen is comfortable making between the two of them.

Antony laughs and swats Stephen on the ass. "It's called taking the edge off," he retorts, still chuckling.

"You've already done that enough today," Stephen slides his fingers back into Antony's hand. "Take me to dinner darling Sir, please?"

"Gladly," Antony says, eyes crinkling, leading the way along the path to the restaurant. "Besides, we have a whole week." Gloriously stretched out before them. "Starr for two," he tells the hostess, who seats them at a table overlooking the water, the boardwalk below the restaurant lit up for nighttime.

Stephen settles on the thick cushion set beside Antony's chair, he shuffles his knees apart to the correct distance, straightens his back and sets his hands, palm up, high on his thighs. A classic leather pose of submission. He then turns his face up to his Sir and lover and smiles serenely.

There are a number of other boys and girls in the restaurant, some naked, most on their knees, but Antony only has eyes for Stephen. His beautiful boy. "What do you feel like?" he asks. "Wine or beer?"

"Wine, please." They've been on beer this afternoon, tonight he'd like to do the food justice with appropriate wine. 

Antony orders a bottle of red and some Rawa fried shrimp and onion bhaji to start. "You want to have a look at the menu or should I order for us?"

"Please order for me," Stephen loves this, this gentle form of domination, so he's more than content to submit fully and trust Antony to choose food for him that he'll enjoy.

Perusing the menu, Antony lays a hand on the back of Stephen's neck, fingers playing over the links of his collar. He chooses a few dishes for them to share, keeping in mind that his boy will likely want to keep room for dessert.

Stephen keeps still, his head slightly bowed, his eyes closed as he savours this quiet intimacy. This gesture of Antony's is so familiar, he does it wherever they are; out at the club like this, at home out of role. Always the same spot, the links rubbed and toyed with. 

"How do you like Goa so far?" Antony asks, setting down the menu when he's decided on their dinner.

"I like Goa very much," Stephen smiles, lifting his chin and opening his eyes. "It has an advantage over Nepal insomuch as it's much warmer and you're wearing less clothing, and there's hot water and beautiful beds." He winks, Nepal was an incredible experience, and this... this luxury is a wonderful counterpoint. "I am very happy."

"Good," Antony says, returning that smile. "It's very much 'India lite' but I wouldn't visit the rest of the country, except maybe Kerala, on a honeymoon."

"Can we just say every trip we do this next year is honeymoon?" Stephen teases, reaching out and setting his hand on Antony's thigh, wanting to touch, to feel the heat of his lover's body beneath his fingers.

"I don't see why not," Antony laughs. "Aren't we supposed to be newlyweds for the whole year?"

"I like that." Of course there are very few people they can share this with - but it's a small price to pay. He has this amazing man to call his own. "It still feels like some mad dream, you know?"

"I do," Antony nods, moving his hand to Stephen's, thumb rubbing over his husband's wedding band. "It all happened so fast. The whole last month's gone by in a bit of a blur."

"Wouldn't have done it any differently though," Stephen leans in to press a kiss to the back of Antony's hand. "It's been perfect."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Antony says, smiling at the gesture. He wouldn't want Stephen to have any regrets - not about them and definitely not about their marriage. "I do too. I really liked keeping it small, having it outside, the girls there..."

"You love them very much don't you?" Stephen glances up again. "Marcus asked me if we might think about having our own." 

"What did you tell him?" Antony asks, nodding at the sommelier as he brings their wine.

"That it wasn't for us, certainly not for me, but if it was something you wanted further down the line, then we'd talk about it." He really can't imagine that is a road they'd go down. 

"I love being an uncle," Antony says, nodding for the sommelier to finish filling their glasses after he's tasted the wine, "but I don't picture being a father. Never have."

Stephen can't help feeling selfish at the relief he feels at this confirmation of his own thoughts. He doesn't want to share Antony, certainly not with the deep level love and commitment that children bring. "I'm glad," he admits quietly chin dipped down once more.

"You don't have to worry," Antony tells him, handing a glass of wine over. "I won't change my mind. I long ago decided a 'normal' family life wasn't for me. I much prefer playing the charming uncle - and now they have two of us."

Stephen's head comes up at that, his eyes widening, he holds the wine but pays it no mind. "Am I an Uncle too?" It hadn't occurred to him that he might have that. With no siblings of his own and with his own sexuality, Stephen had assumed he'd never have children in his life, in any shape or form.

Antony smiles. "My sisters are already calling you Uncle Stephen," he says. "By the next time we see or talk to the girls, that's all you'll hear."

Stephen's face lights up in wide smile of pleasure. "I love that," he lifts his glass to Antony in a toasting gesture. "To new family and being Uncles."

Antony clinks his glass against Stephen's, repeating the toast and smiling. "Don't forget - you've also gained a Louis and a Marcus, and even a Josh. Anytime you need anything and I'm not around, for whatever reason, you don't hesitate to get in touch with any of them."

"Marcus and I came to an understanding at the wedding," Stephen smiles, sipping his wine. 

"I remember. We're having him over for dinner," Antony says, amused that he's never really done that. Invited Marcus into his home for anything not work-related.

"That's not what I meant, he and I, we spoke at the wedding. He implied that all the loyalty he owes you, the protectiveness he feels, now extends to me." He takes another mouthful of wine and sets it on the floor beside him. "He was actually quite moved I think."

Antony takes that in, slightly surprised but not really. He would expect Marcus to protect Stephen, to do whatever it took to make sure he was safe, but for his right-hand to have already made that clear to Stephen? He's moved as well. "Good," he says softly, a wealth of emotion behind the one word.

Stephen reaches up and takes Antony's hand in his. "He loves you, in his own way, you and he have a connection, a deep one, one you and I can never share." He rubs his lips over the back of his Sir's hand. "And I'm glad, glad because it means he will always keep you safe, not for me, but for himself." 

Antony nods. "We keep each other safe," he says. "And our crew. You can't inspire loyalty if you don't." Which is why he'd refused to go back and finish that fucking job.

Stephen sets his forehead against the back of Antony's hand, he closes his eyes and just lets himself be in the moment. Kneeling, naked for his Sir, his owner, his husband. This complicated and wonderful man.

"You are so beautiful," Antony murmurs, watching Stephen, only barely aware of others watching them. "I'm the luckiest man in here."

Stephen lifts his head, opens his eyes and smiles. "No Sir, no you're not." He holds Antony's gaze, it's as if there is only the two of them in the room.

Antony smiles. Christ, the two of them. But he loves that they both feel the same way. "I want to do that scene I mentioned to you," he says as their appetizers arrives. "Shaving your head."

Anyone looking at them, would see the effect his Sir's words have on Stephen; his cock jerks and thickens. "Humiliation?" he asks hopefully, but then of course it is, because in the scheme of things it's right up there with anal as one of their favourite kinks. A mutually hot button.

"Hardcore," Antony confirms, picking up a piece of shrimp and offering it to Stephen, the simple act of feeding his boy one he enjoys greatly. "I was thinking tomorrow but if you want another day to relax, we can push it to the day after."

Stephen takes morsel gently and enjoys it, before he presses for more information. "How hardcore?" he asks softly, his body betraying how very arousing he finds the mere thought of it. 

"I'm going to string you up in the doorway to our patio, but you'll be able to touch the ground," Antony points out, making clear the differences between this scene and the one they did at the gym. "I'm going to shave your head, make that cut on your hip permanent, abuse your cock and your cunt, and tell you exactly why I'm doing all of that.."

His mouth suddenly dry, Stephen's chin dips. His cock, already stirring fills to full hardness, his skin flushes from chest to throat. "Thank you Sir," he whispers. He reaches out to brush his fingers against Antony's ankle. "Sir... may boy make a request?"

"He may," Antony nods, helping himself to a piece of onion bhaji. Curious. And hard. His body reacting to Stephen's very obvious arousal

"Might we do it somewhere more public?" It's an unusual request, but he thinks it might take the humiliation to a whole other level.

Fuck. Antony's suddenly, instantly, painfully hard, his cock going from full to rigid in the blink of an eye. "That can be arranged," he says thoughtfully, offering Stephen the next piece of food. "There's a metal arbour where the waterfront bar meets the beach. There'd be quite the crowd there."

Once more Stephen takes the time to take and savour the food, even if he's a little distracted. "Boy will do whatever pleases Sir," he demurs softly, "and boy would be pleased to be pushed hard." As yet they've failed to find a limit in Stephen's willingness to debase himself for Antony's pleasure.

"Good," Antony says with another smile, adding casually before he finishes the last shrimp. "Will boy also be pleased to see his Sir in some of the leather we bought in Toronto?"

"Boy would be very pleased Sir," Stephen glances up again, wondering if leather and humiliation might mean it's not his Sir, but his Master that will use him.

"And will boy be comfortable with doing all of this with his Master, as slave?" Antony asks, not wanting to take any chances, not when they're going to do this in public.

There's hesitation, it's on the tip of Stephen's tongue to simply say 'yes, whatever you want', but he doesn't, he stills and thinks about the implications - being 'slave' so publicly when it's still such a new concept for him to be at ease with. And then moments later he's mentally castigating himself _for_ considering it, giving it sensible thought - because surely the entire point of being slave to his Master is to give himself up; no limits, no safeword, his body, his entire reason for existing is for his Master's pleasure. Stephen's hands curl into fists and tension slides across his shoulders, his cock softening. There is no hiding here. 

The hesitation, the tension, the way his boy's cock softens... Antony knows Stephen would give him whatever he wants, but in public, with such a hardcore scene? "We'll keep that for another time," he decides, touching Stephen's cheek, his hand curling around the back of his neck. "I want my boy tomorrow."

"But..." Stephen starts to protest, then snaps his mouth shut. A sigh then. "Yes Sir."

"Don't worry. I'll want my slave while we're here too. Just not tomorrow," Antony says, finishing his first glass of wine.

 _But you wanted it for that scene, otherwise why would you ask?_ But Stephen keeps his eyes lowered and his thoughts to himself. He hates that his old insecurities and doubts still have power over him, even now, after all of Antony's care and love. All he wants is to be perfect; a perfect boy, a perfect slave for this man. In an attempt to distract himself he picks up his own wine and takes a large drink.

It's obvious something's off but Antony's not going to make a big deal of it. Doing the scene, in public, as Master and slave when the roles still sit uneasy with Stephen, is only asking for trouble. And Antony would rather - this time - do the scene in public as Sir and boy than in private as Master and slave. "Here comes our food," he says quietly, grateful for the distraction as the waiter delivers their mains to the table, everything in perfect bite-size pieces and served with naan to make it easier to feed them both. "It all smells so good."

Taking a deep breath Stephen makes a concerted effort to put aside his emotional discomfort. _Do not ruin this evening, do not upset him any further._ He puts aside his glass and lifts his chin, resetting his posture as he does. "It really does," he agrees softly. 

"Just make you save room for dessert," Antony says with a smile, scooping up a first bite of stew with a piece of naan before offering the second to Stephen. As usual, the meal is perfection, and once again, he settles back, intent on his beautiful boy, watching Stephen take the food from his fingers.

There is something to beautifully intimate about being hand fed and Stephen finds he loves this interaction more each time they indulge in it. He takes the food gently, his lips brushing Antony's fingertips. He chews, savours the food and swallows. "Thank you Sir." 

Antony nods and moves onto the chicken, adding some extra hot sauce to his own bite. "With or without?" he asks Stephen, his gaze flickering for only a second to the next table as the boy there cries out, having been slapped for 'misbehaving'.

The sudden noise startles Stephen, he follows that quick look of his Sir's and watches as the other boy is disciplined. Without thought Stephen reaches out to touch Antony's leg, his fingers closing around his Sir's calf. 

It's not so much the slap or the boy's cries but the harsh words that are loud enough for all surrounding tables to hear, and maybe it's a game between them, planned out, set up, the boy encouraged to act out, be punished in public, but either way, Antony doesn't like it. He gives a slight shake of his head and strokes his hand down Stephen's back, shifting closer, noting the way security has already moved in, keeping an eye on the man as well. "Apparently even Cit can't keep all the assholes out," he says softly, his words for Stephen and Stephen alone.

"I don't like it," Stephen murmurs, thankful of Antony's reassuring caress. That, whatever it was, had an edge to it, one that jarred, even when his own Sir speaks to humiliate him that 'something' is absent. Stephen knows when something is meant versus something that is play.

"I don't either," Antony says, his hand moving over Stephen's skin. "If I ever did have to punish you for something," which he finds hard to imagine, "it sure as hell wouldn't be done like that, or in front of everyone else."

Of that, Stephen is certain. His Sir is a man in control of himself, and Stephen knows any punishment he might earn would be for unintentional errors and not outright disobedience. With conscious effort, Stephen pulls his attention back to their little intimate bubble. "Sir, might you feed your boy some more?" he prompts softly.

Antony nods, the tension easing from his frame as he picks up the bite of chicken and naan, offering it to Stephen. "I wouldn't mind taking a dip before we turn in tonight." The water always soothes him and having their own private plunge pool seems like a perk they should take advantage of.

"That would be lovely," Stephen nods after he's swallowed. Shuffling a little he asks, "Might boy swap out positions Sir?" It's not often he can't maintain his kneeling posture, but one calf had repeatedly cramped while they were in Nepal - instigating some hurried rubbing and flexing, and cursing, and Stephen is mindful of avoiding a repeat.

Antony nods, taking a couple of bites for himself. "Go ahead. Is it still bothering you?"

"The massage helped, I just don't want to end up sore for tomorrow." He shifts off his knees into a cross legged position, hands resting on his knees. "Thank you." He beams up at Antony. "Apart from this scene tomorrow, is there anything else you might want to do? I'm assuming that won't be our only play time this week."

Antony grins. "I want to do an extended fisting session," he says, reaching for the wine bottle and topping up both their glasses, "and remember when we talked about other kinds of roleplays? I thought we might try something more along the lines of sultan and harem boy, or Raj, I guess, since we're in India."

"I would _love_ that!" Stephen nods, "Well I'd love both, but the role play... yeah, it's so different to what we normally indulge in." And immediately his mind is off contemplating just what Antony might have in mind. 

"Is there anything you'd like us to do?" Antony knows a lot of dominants wouldn't ask, but he could care less about convention. This is their honeymoon, they have a week left, and then they're both back to work and to the craziness of every day life for a while. If there's something Stephen has a hankering for, he wants to know.

Stephen thinks on that, sipping his wine as he does. In the end he shakes his head. "No, I don't think so, not after what you've just outlined already." He sets his glass aside. "Thank you for asking."

"Do you feel like going off the resort at all?" Antony asks, switching between the stew and the chicken every few bites.

"Not really." A light shrug. "We've done a lot in the last month, some quiet time, some intimate time, is all I need before we head back home and back to normal." After all it's not like they can't come back to India at some point. "And it'd mean putting clothes on," he adds with a mischievous grin.

"That would be a shame," Antony admits, eyes crinkling, his gaze sweeping over his boy again. _Mine._

"Yes Sir, it really would." And it's clear from Stephen's gaze he's inferring he'd like to see his Sir naked as much as possible. 

"I suppose I can give up my shorts," Antony says with a small smile. It's not that he minds being nude. He's simply never been into casual nudity - for himself - and as Stephen sometimes teases, he has a tendency to scare people.

"You 'suppose'?" Stephen chuckles. "S'fine darling Sir, boy gets plenty of chances to appreciate his Sir's body." Stephen is well aware of Antony's reticence.

Antony laughs. "I'm glad you think so," he says, offering Stephen the last bite. "I've given up on robes when room service comes. By next year, I'll be wandering around naked the whole vacation."

Stephen's grin turns impish. "But maybe I'll be too possessive of my Sir by then, and not want him advertising his," he pauses to laugh "generous bounty, for all the other boys to see." 

"You're planning on becoming progressively more jealous?" Antony teases.

"I have so much more to lose now," Stephen glances down at his wedding ring, his tone more wistful. "I don't want your head turned, and I don't want anyone thinking they can try."

"It wouldn't matter what they think, or what they try," Antony says, shaking his head. "I spent years in the club and didn't find anyone I wanted to be with, inside or out. I don't believe in lightning striking twice."

At those words Stephen leans in, his forehead resting against Antony's knee. He has moments, moments of irrational fear, that his lover, husband, his Sir, might just find someone else, be distracted enough to pause and wonder if what they have isn't quite so wonderful as they had let themselves believe. Being cast aside by Cam was bad enough, but Antony...

"I also believe in the vows we made," Antony continues softly, stroking his hand over Stephen's hair. "Til death do us part. I _want_ to grow old with you." But he knows even as he says it that there's nothing he can actually do or say to put Stephen's fears to rest. Only time can do that.

"I'm bound to you in all the ways I can be - and still..." Stephen's words are muffled a little, he doesn't raise his head, "I'm sorry I doubt you, that I doubt us sometimes, you deserve better than that."

"It's human to worry," Antony says, stroking Stephen's hair more. "And with your past, it's even harder to let go out of those fears. I get it. I'd rather hear about your doubts than have you hide them." He smiles. "I told you once I'd tell you as many times as it took that this was forever, and I meant it."

Stephen wonders on some level if he thought them getting married would banish those doubts once and for all, and if maybe that had been part of his motivation for asking Antony to marry him so quickly. 

Lifting his head, Stephen meets Antony's gaze. "I love you, I love you with all I am."

"I know," Antony says, staring into Stephen's eyes. "And I love you. More than anything or anyone else." The words not even coming close to what he feels for Stephen, what he would _do_ for Stephen.


End file.
